


You

by storybored



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Red Hood: Lost Days
Genre: 2nd person POV, Gen, Jason died but that's normal, Poetry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-21
Updated: 2019-01-21
Packaged: 2019-10-14 04:55:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17501981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storybored/pseuds/storybored
Summary: I'm shit at poetry I'm sorry.





	You

You remember yellow and black. Red of your uniform. 

You think you remember green and purple of a monster. 

You remember a rhythmic ticking, a clock. Alarmed. Unsettling. 

You ~~don’t~~ remember what happened between there and the dark place.

She was there, blonde and beautiful and lying. 

Then there was a loud sound, screeching and warping metal.

Then grey, choking smothering grey.

Then you weren’t there, you were there in the dark place.

 

She, a different she smiled and said something at you. 

She smelled like the cigarettes that the black haired woman used to smoke.

She said something and you don’t know what it was but it made you sad.

Made you think of the boy with green eyes and a scowly face.

Your face was wet.

You thought hard about the little boy, he reminded you of someone. 

You had to protect him.

The new lady, something with a T, mentioned something with a B, and that evoked feelings of anger and loneliness and of a group you weren’t really allowed to join.

 

But over all the new lady was safe.

She was protective.

She earned your loyalty just by being there when something with a B wasn’t.

It was far too long since someone earned this depth of your loyalty, and it was reciprocated.

 

The new lady wasn’t the one from before, brown straight hair, not wheat blond or black curly mess.

Her eyes a deep green like stained glass, not a sky blue or an inky brown.

The clothing was different as well, the other ladies never wore colors, one couldn’t afford it, the other just didn’t.

The new lady wore green and it wasn’t the uneasy feeling you used to get you could no longer tasted red, inhale the gray or hear that terrible, screeching, mocking sound.

With the woman you no longer got uneasy around green, you no longer tasted red, smell the gray or hear that terrible, screeching, mocking sound.

With the woman you smelled incense, wonderfully sweet, and heard the clash of metal against metal, the taste of red came and went though.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm shit at poetry I'm sorry.


End file.
